


Confusion

by arim716



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:24:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arim716/pseuds/arim716
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin gets sent on a series of errands, confusion and hilarity ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This work was written because a lovely friend of mine challenged me to write something that wasn't full of angst - can't say I succeeded in making it funny, but at least it's light-hearted. I'm currently in the middle of writing a Wolfstar fic called "Cherries", so stay tuned for that if you're in the HP fandom! Apart from that, leave a comment if you liked this story.

The marketplace was always busy, regardless of the time of day or year. Merlin huffed and puffed as he pushed his way through the countless merchants and vendors who stuck perfumes under his nose and silken cloths into his palms. The basket clenched in his hand was cutting into the skin of his fingers, but he did not relinquish his grip. Someone grabbed his arm, but he shrugged them off without turning around. _Not today_ , he thought. _I won’t let this day get worse than it already is._

 

He had been on his way to the kitchens to steal a meat pie for his lunch when Gwen had pulled him aside. _It was urgent_ , she had said, and vital that he do it now. What was it? Well, she had blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. _Maybe they should talk more privately._

 

Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as he saw the pink flag marking his destination, but his respite only lasted momentarily. The stall was surrounded by women in fancy attire, making him feel somewhat out of place. _Well_ , a voice said in his head, _what do you expect when you go searching to buy a lady’s undergarments?_ Shaking his head and gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to the front of the crowd.

 

“Hi,” he said. The woman who owned the stall wore far too much rogue on her cheeks. “I have a list of items that I need to purchase from you. One moment, if you will…” he ruffled through his basket. “Ah! Here it is. I will need three petticoats, a - how do you pronounce this - a _strophic_ , and a brassiere. The measurements are here -” he pointed to the slip of paper as he handed it to the woman “and I am in quite a hurry, so -”

 

“Merlin?”

 

He cringed at the sound of his name, and slowly turned around. Morgana stood behind him, a veil pulled back from her face, and a faint smile playing at her lips.

 

“Well,” she said, “I expected to see you in the marketplace, of course, but not here!”

 

“I, uh, well, you see -”

 

Morgana laughed and shook her head. “I won’t tell, you know. What a man wears under his pants and shirt is none of my business -”

 

“No!” Merlin exclaimed, aghast. “No, you don’t understand! It was Gwen, she asked me to -”

 

“ _Ah_ ,” Morgana said conspiratorially. “Guinevere?” She drew out the name and winked, smiling in a way the Merlin could not place. “Anyhow,” she continued, “the nice lady behind the stall seems to be nearly finished with your order, and I was planning to head up to Gaius to ask him to pick up an order of herbs I had placed last week - would you…?” she let the question hang in the air, trailing off in a way that Merlin knew was meant to let him say _yes_.

 

“Yeah,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I s’pose. What’s the name?”

 

“Names,” she corrected. “I have a list.”

 

_Of course you do_ , Merlin thought as he took the slip of parchment from her outstretched hand. The lady behind the stall coughed indiscreetly at him and held out a parcel.

 

“Thanks,” Merlin said, grabbing the package and stuffing it into his basket. “I’ll get your herbs to you by tonight,” he added, turning to Morgana. Dropping two silver coins onto the table, he tightened his grip on his basket and took off running once more through the relentless onslaught of people flooding the marketplace.

 

~

 

Waiting in line at the apothecary stall, Merlin shook out the crumpled wad of paper clenched in his hand. In Morgana’s neat, cursive handwriting, there was a list of herbs. He groaned and slapped his forehead. “Dysentery,” he muttered. “Why did it have to be dysentery?” A man waiting in front of him gave him a strange look, but Merlin didn’t care. Whatever hopes he had held of having a good day had seemingly flown out of the window.

 

Half of an hour later, he was standing at the forefront of the line in front of the herbarium.

 

“I have a list of herbs ordered here last week by Morgana Pendragon that need to be picked up,” he said. “Agrimony, comfrey, peppermint, white oak, black walnut, mullein, and yellow root.” The man wearing an apron behind the stall grunted and turned around.

 

“Oh, and add in some slippery elm,” Merlin added as an afterthought. _Easy enough_ , he thought to himself as the man started measuring and preparing the dried herbs.

 

“Merlin! Just the man I was looking to see,” someone near him exclaimed jovially. Merlin would know that voice anywhere. Arthur Pendragon was easy to discern in any setting, whether through sound or through sight. And Merlin’s job as the crown prince’s manservant made the skill of listening to Arthur a necessity. But today was supposed to be Merlin’s day off - it was supposed to be a full day of training for Arthur. He had made a point to stay out of the castle, to steer clear of the sparring yards, and to not irritate Arthur just so he would not have to hear -

 

“Oi! Merlin!” A warm, strong hand gripped his shoulder. _Typical Arthur_ , Merlin thought. _Making himself impossible to avoid_. Merlin turned around.

 

“Yes?” he asked, as unpleasantly as he could. Arthur looked slightly taken aback.

 

“You’re in a horrible mood today,” Arthur said, surprised. “Is Gaius working you too hard?”

 

“Gaius isn’t my problem,” Merlin muttered, shoving past Arthur to grab the string-tied parcel and throwing a copper coin into the collection jar. He shoved the man behind him out of the way and stalked away, angrily kicking a loose stone in the pavement.

 

“Wait!” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and pulled him into a small alleyway. He bent down slightly and looked into Merlin’s averted eyes. “What’s the matter?” Merlin took a deep breath, letting the feeling of the cool stone wall at his back calm him down.

 

“Nothing,” he said, tugging at his red neck scarf uncomfortably. “I’ve just had a rough day.” Avoiding Arthur’s eyes, he put the parcel in his hands into his basket. It looked nearly identical to Gwen’s package in both size and shape. _How many herbs did Morgana order?_ he thought absentmindedly. Aloud, he said, “Did training already finish?”

 

Arthur was still watching him curiously. “Percival hurt his leg,” he said dismissively, slapping Merlin’s shoulder, “I hope it gets better for you, mate.” He turned around and began to walk away, before stopping short. Looking back at Merlin with a sheepish grin, he said, “Don’t hate me too hard for this, but could you run down to the blacksmith and sharpen something for me? I’d do it myself, but I have to be in the throne room in five minutes…”

 

Sighing, Merlin reached out a hand. “Give it here,” he said.

 

“Thanks,” Arthur said happily, handing Merlin a cloth-wrapped parcel. “I mean it.” Merlin watched him disappear as he turned on his heel and left

 

~

 

The blacksmith’s shop was set up near the palace’s weapon room. Merlin felt his hair begin to stick to his neck with the sticky heat as he walked through the shop’s door. “Hey there,” he said to the blacksmith, also waving to the apprentice working in the back, “Arthur needs this sharpened. Not sure what it is just yet, though…”

 

The man wiped his soot-covered hands on his apron before reaching out to take the package held in Merlin’s outstretched palm. He unwrapped the burlap from the weapon, and pulled out a malicious-looking blade. It was small and curved, with an ivory handle and a dangerous point at the end. The blacksmith whistled, before turning to his workbench.

 

“I’ll do what I can,” he said to Merlin. “Just wait outside and I’ll get you when I’m finished.”

 

Merlin thanked him and stepped outside. Just then, Guinevere passed him, a log of firewood under her arm.

 

“Gwen!” Merlin shouted, running towards her. “I have your, you know, _things_.”

 

Gwen smiled at him as he handed her the parcel. “Thank you, Merlin,” she said gratefully. “I hope I didn’t put you through too much trouble?” Her eyes danced with worry.

 

“None at all,” Merlin lied. “I hope they’re the right things. I didn’t really look as she was packaging them.”

 

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Gwen replied, smiling. “I have to put this in Morgana’s room,” she said, hitching up the piece of firewood, “but perhaps we can talk at supper?”

 

“Of course,” Merlin said. His spirits were beginning to rise - Guinevere’s face could light up anyone’s day. “I’m just waiting for something for Arthur.” Gwen nodded and began walking back to the castle’s back entrance, waving as she went.

 

Merlin sighed and headed back to the blacksmith’s shop, sitting on the bench outside of the small building.

 

~

 

Later that day, when the sun was going down and the sky was getting dim, Merlin dropped Morgana’s package on the bed in her room, before heading to Arthur’s bedchambers. Arthur was sitting at his desk, toying with a quill. The ink pot next to him was open, but there was no writing on parchment spread across his desk, nor was there any pigment on his fingers, as usually happened when he wrote. After quietly dropping the weapon parcel onto the table in the center of the room, Merlin quietly walked up to Arthur.

 

“Hey,” he said softly, hoping not to startle him. Hesitantly, he placed his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and began rubbing small circles into the tensed muscles.

 

Arthur put down his quill and smiled, the tired lines around his eyes crinkling. “Hey.”

 

Merlin pulled Arthur’s chair away from the desk and Arthur stood up, bringing Merlin into a hug. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled away, running a hand through Merlin’s hair before dropping it down and tenderly cupping his cheek. “You good?” he asked, searching Merlin’s eyes for the irritability from the marketplace.

 

“Yeah,” Merlin replied, leaning into the calloused hand. “I’m good.” The two stayed like that for a few more moments, before Merlin laughed self-consciously and pulled away. “Your parcel is on the table,” he said, jutting his head in its direction. Arthur turned and moved towards it. As he pulled open the strings, Merlin began to roll the parchment back up on the desk.

 

“Um, Merlin?” Arthur turned towards Merlin, two hands behind his back. “I’m not sure if I should be confused, offended, or amused.” His lips were pulled into a sideways smile as he watched Merlin fondly.

 

“What do you mean? I had the blade sharpened - I checked it myself…” At last, Merlin turned towards Arthur, who was now dangling a bralette from one finger.

 

“Good gods,” Merlin said, dropping the parchment and bringing his hands to his flaming cheeks.

 

“I mean, I know these aren’t yours - I’ve seen you undressed far too many times to have missed a lady’s undergarments under those baggy clothes that you always wear, but I don’t know why they’re sitting on my table instead of a curved dagger. Unless, of course, you want me to wear them, which is an idea that I would be most -”

 

“Oh,” Merlin whispered, rushing over to the table and gathering the undergarments. “These aren’t yours - not that they’re mine! Just… they’re… look, I have to go.” He rushed to the door before turning around once more and snatching the bralette from Arthur’s hand. “I’ll explain, I swear,” he promised, leaving an astonished Arthur standing in the middle of the room.

 

~

 

Merlin didn’t care about the strange glances he was getting as he hurtled out of the castle and ran towards Guinevere’s house. “Gwen!” he exclaimed, knocking on the door. “Gwen!” As soon as the door opened, he slipped inside. “Did you open the package?” he asked breathlessly.

 

Gwen was still holding the doorknob, looking startled. “Yes,” she said cautiously. “You know, you didn’t have to lie to me about getting what I asked for. Although, I still don’t know why you gave me herbs to ward off dysentery. If you think that’s why I needed undergarments, I can assure you that I am extremely healthy and not feeling any symptoms of -”

 

She stopped short as Merlin dumped the opened package of undergarments into her arms. “Sorry,” he said. “The dysentery herbs weren’t for you.”

 

Gwen’s look of shock and irritation morphed into pity. “Oh, Merlin,” she said, reaching out and enveloping him in a hug. “You should have told me you were ill! I would never have asked you to go to the marketplace if I had known.” She ushered him into a chair, before bustling to the fireplace to tend to the pot. “Here, she said, pushing a bowl under his nose. I just made soup -”

 

“No, wait,” he protested. “Gwen, I’m not sick! I’m totally fine. I just need the herbs and then I have to go.”

 

Gwen was still watching Merlin with pity. She clucked her tongue and tousled his hair. “It isn’t anything to be ashamed of,” she said, holding out the package of herbs as Merlin attempted to slip to the door. “Take the day off tomorrow! I can ask Arthur for you - I’m sure he’ll understand -”

 

“Gwen,” Merlin said, grabbing the parcel, “I’m fine. Trust me.” Before she could respond, he had slipped through the door and was already running back to the castle.

 

~

 

Morgana’s chambers were at the far end of the east wing on the third floor of the castle. Merlin’s breathing had become labored by the time he had reached them, the parcel of herbs clutched to his chest. A minute later, after he was slightly more composed, he knocked on the door.

 

Morgana had an expectant look on her face as she opened it and Merlin cringed, expecting a torrent of exasperated words directed at him and his clumsiness. Instead, Morgana beckoned him inside, before walking over and grabbing the dagger from her table.

 

Merlin opened his mouth - what could he have said? but Morgana shook her head. “It’s fine,” she said, smiling slightly.

 

“Sorry,” Merlin said sheepishly, holding out the herbs and taking the dagger.

 

Morgana’s smile widened. “Like I said, don’t worry about it.” Taking the herbs, she walked to her bed. “Good night, Merlin.”

 

“G’night,” he replied, stepping back out into the hall and shutting the door.

 

_Well, at least I didn’t create any permanent damage_ , Merlin thought as he walked back to Arthur’s bedchambers. The castle had become quiet, and as he slipped into Arthur’s room and closed the door, the only sound was his own footsteps on the wooden floor.

 

Arthur was sitting in bed, reading a book in the light that came from a candle beside him. “Did you sort everything out?” he asked, closing his book and resting his hands behind his head.

 

Merlin placed the dagger on the table. “Yeah,” he said.

 

Arthur patted the bedcovers. “Stay here?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” Merlin replied, toeing off his shoes and slipping under the covers.

 

Arthur blew out the candle and leaned into Merlin’s arms. “You know,” he said, “you didn’t have to get rid of those undergarments.”

 

Merlin laughed incredulously. “You _are_ joking, right?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know. Could’ve been interesting.”

 

“Yeah well,” Merlin said, “I embarrassed myself in front of far too many people at that marketplace stall today. I’m sure I could do it again tomorrow without feeling more mortified than I already am.”


End file.
